


I Believe It Was a Sin

by beaglefanclub



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Washington Capitals, andre is just a dork who loves magic tricks and doesn't deserve this, he seduces andre with free pot brownies and chemistry supplies, oh yeah literal felonies being committed for kicks, so many mentions of nate schmidt that he might as well be in this, some characters still play hockey but the brobeans don't, stoner jakub vrana, they should have leather jackets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 19:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14244108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beaglefanclub/pseuds/beaglefanclub
Summary: "listen close, boys. listen to uncle andre. i will tell you what we're gonna do." andre swayed back and forth. mike and tom glanced at each other and mouthed 'pre-gamed.'"well go on, aunt nancy, tell us what you're on about," tom prodded."boys. we're gonna break into..." andre patted his thighs, simulating a drum roll. "we're going to break into and rob the ovansion."mike unlocked his front door and pushed it open. "the what?"andre frowned. "oh-van-shun. ovechkin mansion? ovansion? god, you guys need to take a basic english class.""sorry shakespeare," tom deadpanned, "but also, how the fuck are we supposed to get into the--""ovansion!""--house of literal god among men alex ovechkin?!"andre flung his arms out, drawing mike and tom into him. they stumbled under his dead weight. "we make a plan, einstein."





	I Believe It Was a Sin

**Author's Note:**

> i've never been to kettler, capital one arena, or washington d.c. i'm also choosing to ignore real birthdays. i have no idea where alex ovechkin lives, or if there's a public university in d.c. thanks for bearing with me despite any glaring inaccuracies!
> 
> title from "it was a sin" by the revivalists
> 
> all the love to ellie and toria for reading this before it really became anything.
> 
> apologies for the lowercase; i wrote this on a note on my iphone.
> 
> last of all: ovi if you're reading this (do you game?) i promise i'm not going to rob you

—————  
the beginning

"not him," tom said. "no way. absolutely not."

"what?" mike said, "he's perfect."

tom took his feet off the dashboard and leaned forward, peeking out the window. "he's just a kid. he does _magic tricks_ , for god's sake. pick again, latts."

"that's the whole point," mike said in an exasperated tone. "he's _just a kid_ who does _magic tricks_. no one would ever suspect him because he's such a loser."

tom frowned. "he's a kid, mikey."

"you, of all people, have reservations about corrupting a kid?" mike asked incredulously. "you bought a fake id the day after your fifteenth birthday, and that was only _four months_ ago, willy. and you're worried about corrupting a kid?"

tom didn't reply, only stared harder at the kid practicing sleight of hand by the swings. "he looks kinda lonely."

"well yeah, he's sitting by himself. imagine how lucky you'd feel if you had older friends when you were, what, twelve? thirteen?"

"if he's twelve, we're _not_ going with him," tom said firmly. "that's only three years younger than me and four behind you, but it's creepy."

mike rolled up the window. his car was so old that it didn't even have a switch for the windows; it had a rolling handle. he and tom _definitely_ looked like creepers driving around in such a piece of junk. but he loved his car (her name was eugenia, and she was a dame) even though the air conditioning didn't work and the brakes were testy on a good day.

"are we—latts _no_ , we are not driving over to him," tom protested. he looked like he was being strangled by his seatbelt with the way he was clawing at it.

"look outside dipshit, it's gonna rain," mike said. he gestured vaguely at the darkening sky, at the leaves swirling in the brisk october wind. "and it's cold."

tom scowled. "where do you know this kid from anyway?"

mike stopped the car in front of the swings. he rolled down his junker window. "hey," he called, trying not to feel like too much like a pedophile, "you walk here?"

the kid looked up. he frowned. "what?"

"did you walk here?"

"um..." he stood up, shoving the deck of cards he'd been fiddling with into his jacket pocket. "why do you want to know?"

"'cause it's gonna rain. you need a ride?"

"i'm not trying to get kidnapped," the kid said. he puffed out his chest bravely, and tom rolled his eyes.

then, the kid walked a little bit closer. he squinted at mike. "hey, i think i know you...you came to my science class to talk about joining the computer club when we hit high school."

"and you're the kid who was doing magic tricks in the back. what's up?" mike put his hand out the window and the kid slapped it in a high five. "i'm mike, and this is tom."

"i'm andre."

thunder rumbled overhead. mike leaned more out the window. "so, andre. what do you like to do?"

"um, i do magic. sleight of hand, card tricks and stuff." he seemed a little wary yet of the two teenage boys in the garbage pile on wheels, and rightly so.

"you gonna join the computer club?" mike asked. he wasn't really active in that anymore; he preferred to work on cars now. it just seemed like a nice question to ask.

"nah, i don't think so. that's where all the nerds go."

tom eyed the bulge from the card deck in andre's coat pocket and raised an eyebrow. mike slugged his shoulder.

"anyway, you want a ride home, andre? it'd be nasty to walk in the storm."

andre considered for a minute. "sure, i guess. i live on parkway."

"tom, make room for our guest," mike chided.

tom gave him a stunned look before climbing into the backseat. as andre settled into the passenger seat, he asked "how old are you, kid?"

"thirteen, but i'll be fourteen in three weeks," andre said as he buckled his seatbelt.

mike sent a smug look at tom in the rearview mirror. tom glared back. "well cool, it's nice to meet you. i'm tom."

"how, uh, how old are you guys?" andre asked, obviously trying to be cool.

"sixteen and fifteen," mike said, jerking his thumb at the backseat.

"you're both...sophomores?" andre asked.

"yeah, but i betcha he's gonna fail the grade," tom said. "one month in and he's already got an F in three classes."

"quit talkin' 'bout yourself, wilso, it's conceited," mike fired back.

andre watched the exchange with rapt attention and yeah, mike knew this was gonna work. "you excited for high school?"

"kind of. a little scared. y'know," andre mumbled.

mike made note of andre's quiet speaking; they'd have to work on that eventually. the kid needed to build up some confidence.

they pulled onto parkway drive as the first raindrops fell. "first one on the left," andre said. he nearly bolted the second mike pulled into the driveway. "thanks for the ride."

"hey, wait," mike said. "tommy and i are going cruising friday night, wanna come?"

tom rolled down the backseat window and stuck his head out. "pick you up at nine?" he asked with a cheery grin.

andre smiled. "yeah, sure. see you guys then." he turned around and bounded into his house.

mike backed out of the driveway, still wearing a rather arrogant smirk.

tom sighed. "fine. you were right. he'll be everything we need."

"whew, thanks. i mean, i knew i was right, but the confirmation is nice to hear."

"be fuckin' serious for a second, latts," tom snapped. "we're gonna ruin that kid's life. he could end up in jail."

"we haven't yet," mike hedged.

"we haven't pulled anything _big_ yet," tom replied.

mike was silent for a second. "we'll tell him. he doesn't have to learn anything if he doesn't want to. but don't act like you don't want a third person. we need more than a pretty face and a genius."

tom nodded. "yeah, i know."

mike flicked on his wipers; it was raining pretty hard now.

"i gotta hand it to you, though," tom started. "did you see him doing sleight of hand?"

"kid's gonna be so good at pickpocketing. we're not gonna be able to carry our own wallets."

they chuckled, thinking about all the shit they could finally do when andre learned how to be a decent thief.

"hey, wanna text schmidty to come over? just got the new net downstairs; we could shoot a little bit," mike said after a while.

"nah, he's on a trip with his family, remember? vegas, or something like that."

"damn, vegas. wow." mike whistled.

"yeah, pretty cool. hope he comes back soon though. he's got the new bauer skates and i wanna see them."

"you can't afford those."

"maybe in a few months..." tom joked.

—————

it was safe to say that a few months later, tom could not afford those skates. sure, they had andre, the master-pickpocket-in-training, but it was hard work convincing a good kid that it was okay to steal from people when they were rich, or okay to do it when they weren't being careful with their belongings. however, he was learning well; the kid was a clear natural, and the background in magic definitely helped. mike still caught andre whenever he would try and steal the watch off his wrist, but real progress was being made.

tom was himself a self-taught thief, and was passing everything he knew down to andre (there were lots of star wars quotes involved. it was truly awful for the first few weeks, but tom's yoda impressions eventually got better). andre watched with wide eyes as tom picked a twenty dollar bill out of a sophomore girl's coat pocket without her even noticing. "i wanna do that," he said as tom slipped the bill into his pocket (hey, he still wanted those skates). mike rolled his eyes from where he was leaning against eugenia.

"all in good time," tom said, folding his hands into his coat sleeves like yoda. his breath fogged in front of him and gave him an air of mystery.

andre thought for a second, then pointed at the high school entrance. "what's that?" he cried.

tom snickered. "good one, rook."

andre pouted. "can we go yet, latts?"

mike shook his head. "she's still warming up," he said, tapping eugenia's windshield. "january's not a good month for her."

"whatever," tom said. "better to freeze in there than out here."

"then get in, losers."

andre pushed himself off the tree he'd been propped against, but promptly slipped on a sheet of ice.

"woah there, burk," tom said, catching his arm before he fell.

"thanks," andre mumbled, straightening his hat.

"yeah, yeah, get in the backseat," tom said, ruffling the eighth-grader's hair.

andre opened the car door, but then paused. "here, wilso. you might want this back." he dug into his pocket and revealed tom's wallet.

tom stared at it. then he smiled. "nice job, kid. real nice job. didn't even feel it."

"well done," mike said.

—————  
the middle

"burky, welcome to the mancave," tom crowed. he brought his old friend in for a hug before stepping back and showing his friend the apartment. "hey latts! andre's here."

"can't believe i have to live in a dorm while you guys get this shithole," andre said sarcastically. he was a freshman at udub this year, where tom and mike were juniors.

"you're living in phelps, right?" tom asked. "mikey lived there frosh year."

"yeah, i remember. high school was a fucking drag without you guys, by the way. no one was there to compliment me when i made a nice pull," andre said. "got any beer?"

"duh. bottom shelf of the fridge."

andre tilted his head in thanks and grabbed two bottles. he tossed one to tom. they raised them in cheers before popping them open.

"first week on campus treating you alright?" tom asked as they kicked back on the couch.

"s'okay. the floor above me is the girls' floor and they're loud as hell. but it's good. haven't gotten lost yet."

"hey burt," mike said, wandering into the den. he scratched his bare chest, and squinted at the beer his friend was holding. "you old enough to drink?"

"my fake id's back in the dorm, sorry."

mike shrugged and went to get a beer of his own. "what's your major again?" he yelled from the kitchen.

"english lit," andre yelled back.

"nerd," tom, a biology major, immediately said.

"oh please, i'm not the one fucking around on computers and looking at pretty buildings all day."

"yeah, and you can thank the computers for teaching me how to hotwire a car," mike said, crashing down onto the couch beside tom and andre. "we missed ya, buddy. now we can get up to the _real_ shit."

"bet you guys haven't been able to get anything without me." andre smiled smugly; he had long surpassed tom as the best natural thief in the trio, and he knew it too.

"not true," tom piped up. "latts hotwired a prof's car last year. parked it three miles away so they'd have to walk in the cold."

"good one," andre said, and he sounded sincere. "i haven't been able to do anything either."

"mmm," tom said. "hey, you still with that girl? jessie? jenny?"

"jenny, and no. she went to nyu." andre swirled around the contents of his beer before taking a big swig. "it was mutual." quickly, he changed the subject. "so what are the rules here?"

"no pulling on campus unless it's pickpocketing. we don't shoplift here. go to georgetown or around the mall if you wanna get the dumb tourists," mike said. tom nodded along. "we don't usually do anything in the first month; campus safety's got a stick up their ass until the little freshmen settle in. no offense," he added.

"none taken. i'm not a victim."

"yeah, 'cause you're the fucking perp," tom said with a dry laugh.

andre rolled his eyes and finished off his beer. "when do we do the big stuff? _where _do we do it?"__

____

"like latts said; go to the mall. tourists are the easiest. you can make three hundred in a day, easy. you have to dress like them, though. kind of embarrassing," tom chuckled. "as for, like, _big_ shit, we only do that once every few months. gotta plan, you know." 

__

__"yeah, i know. you left me out past time," andre said with a barely discernible streak of hurt in his voice._ _

__

__"christ, burky, we weren't gonna involve a high school senior in breaking into kettler," mike said, because come on._ _

__

__"and why'd you go there, anyway? you miss your peewee days?" andre scowled, now in full sulk mode. "you guys are wannabees."_ _

__

__"right, because _you_ were first team all conference _and_ a co captain of the varsity hockey team for most of high school," tom remarked. "but hey, golf is cool. you wore cute shorts."_ _

__

__"if it really means that much to you, we'll do it again," mike mediated. "it wasn't that hard last time, and now we have someone else to help us. besides, tommy has a guy on the inside."_ _

__

__andre's jaw dropped. "you know a capital?"_ _

__

__tom shrugged in fake modesty. "a few, yeah. jay beagle comes to beer league sometimes."_ _

__

__andre appeared to be shellshocked by this tidbit of information. "a professional hockey player...goes to beer league?"_ _

__

__"yeah, and you should join. i mean, you can't drink and you'll be the youngest guy there, but you won't be the worst one out there."_ _

__

__"schmidty would love it," mike noted, as he too was part of the league. "but he's where, minnesota?"_ _

__

__"he's a gopher," tom confirmed._ _

__

__"the point is, we can break into kettler again if you want."_ _

__

__"what do you even do?" andre wondered. "there's gotta be cameras everywhere."_ _

__

__"fuck around, mostly." tom set his empty beer bottle on the ground and then relaxed back into the couch. "we stole a couple shirts, but we washed 'em a bunch of times before wearing them outside. we stole a puck to send to schmidty. basically we celebrate the successful breaking and entering, and then leave."_ _

__

__"and," mike spoke up, "we take player-signed stuff. jack up the price and sell it online. for tuition, y'know."_ _

__

__andre didn't look perturbed. "sounds fun. let's do it."_ _

__

__"give it a few months, burk," mike said. he rested his chin on the mouth of his beer bottle. "settle in. get used to udub. we're not gonna start planning until at least october."_ _

__

__—————_ _

__

__"this is how we got in last year," mike said. he clicked his way through several folders on his laptop, finally entering one called "birthday gift ideas." he clicked on the document titled "grandma" and then handed the computer over to andre to read. "how long did it take us last year, willy?"_ _

__

__"i don't know," came a weak grunt from the tom-shaped lump on the couch. "maybe an hour to get in, thirty minutes inside, thirty minutes to get out. we did it during the second and third periods of a home game."_ _

__

__"wouldn't they be on extra alert then?" andre asked. his eyes moved rapidly across the screen as he scanned the old itinerary._ _

__

__mike peered over his shoulder, reading along with him. "nope. kettler is closed during games. only people there are the janitors," he replied._ _

__

__"also, we're not, like, fucking stupid," tom said matter-of-factly. "you wouldn't steal the declaration of independence on any regular day. by the way, can one of you make me soup?"_ _

__

__"you have legs," mike deadpanned. "you were fine at beer league thursday night."_ _

__

__"i'll have you know that i skipped vertebrate biology three-oh-one yesterday, and you _know_ that's my only class on fridays," tom said indignantly. "burky, you wanna make me some soup?"_ _

__

__"busy," andre muttered, absentmindedly waving his hand at the screen in front of him. "are we going to do anything differently this time?"_ _

__

__"probably," mike said, and took the laptop back. "what do you think, tommy? should we cut the whole thing down to an hour? in, out, any inside jobs?"_ _

__

__"we're _not_ getting inside in twenty minutes," tom said from the floor—he had rolled off the couch, presumably on a mission to make his own damn soup. "forty-five _maybe_."_ _

__

__"okay, but you were the one who tripped and fell into the dumpst—"_ _

__

__"hold on." andre held out his hand, breaking up the potential squabble. "you snuck in with the _garbage_ last time?"_ _

__

__"get in, get out. we aren't fancy," tom said as he crawled across the floor in a zigzagging line._ _

__

__"maybe we should be," andre offered quietly. "imagine it, we could walk right in and—"_ _

__

__"this isn't the walgreens we'd get at one am for shits and giggles, burk," mike snapped. "this is a big fuckin' deal. we'll go to jail if we get caught."_ _

__

__"so we don't get caught," andre said, as if it was just that easy._ _

__

__"if you're gonna keep that attitude, we're not going," mike countered. "and jesus, wilson, get off the fucking floor."_ _

__

__(his intructions weren't necessary; tom was already up on his feet and racing toward the bathroom with his hand clamped over his mouth.)_ _

__

__"look," andre said seriously, "i could get us keys. you know i could. we'd be easy in, easy out. it's time for you guys to up your game. we're back together!"_ _

__

__mike raised an eyebrow. "you could steal keys. how?"_ _

__

__andre gave him a look. he reached forward to close the document on mike's laptop, but mike grabbed the computer and did it himself. "how are you going to steal the keys, buddy?"_ _

__

__"how do you think?" andre held his hand out in a fist. before mike's curious eyes, he opened it and revealed a watch. mike's watch, actually._ _

__

__mike stared at it. "you just took that? just now?"_ _

__

__andre said nothing, only fastened it back onto mike's wrist. "let's make a plan. i can get us keys."_ _

__

__"yeah," mike muttered. "let's do that."_ _

__

__—————_ _

__

__"we're all going to have to do things we're not used to or uncomfortable with," mike said. he focused on the laptop screen in front on him and opened up a document titled "aunt susie" and then looked up at his best friends._ _

__

__"easier said than done." tom stared out of his blanket cocoon with glassy eyes; he had been sick for a week and wasn't showing signs of improvement._ _

__

__"man up and do it," andre said. he tossed a tennis ball against the wall repeatedly, flicking his wrist and catching it impossibly quickly. "what've i gotta do, latts?"_ _

__

__mike squinted at the print on the screen. so far, it was just an outline of the new scheme; he'd copied and pasted the last plan and was making edits in red and using strikethrough. it was sure to be easier now that they had a third person, even if said person tended to have a god complex. "it's less of what you're doing and more of how you have to do it. you kinda have to know the process to get it, i guess."_ _

__

__tom nodded in encouragement for mike to elaborate._ _

__

__"i don't have it completely done yet, but you're gonna have a bigger part in this one, tommy, for sure. we're gonna have to start going to practices so i can get familiar with the layout again. we're gonna pass you off as our old friend who's a lifelong caps fan, burky, and you'll be in the team store. _that's_ where you get the keys, assuming someone there is carrying them. you need to be able to steal keys off a keyring or chain without getting caught."_ _

__

__andre said nothing, only continued throwing the ball despite the death glare tom was throwing his way._ _

__

__"next time jay shows up to beer league, tom, it would be sweet if you could work into the conversation that one of your friends from back home started school here and you're taking him to some practices at kettler because he's a huge fan. it can't hurt to have an alibi while we're there, because we're gonna be there a lot."_ _

__

__"you tell him. i'm not going this week."_ _

__

__"i'm not on his line," mike replied. "and don't go if you don't feel good; we need you feeling better."_ _

__

__"when is this happening again?" tom asked just before fighting off what appeared to be an aggressive sneeze._ _

__

__"i was thinking first or second week in december; it gives us a month and a half to prep, and then everyone will be off campus so they can't exactly investigate. we need to go shopping for blackout clothes in a week or so. you still have your ski mask, burk?"_ _

__

__"you know it," andre said. he got up off the couch and lumbered off to the bathroom._ _

__

__"am i anything other than insurance?" tom asked, a little bit of sarcasm in his voice._ _

__

__"what kind of dumbass question is that? you're distracting the cashier at the team store so andre can get the keys. flirt with her. make burt's job easier."_ _

__

__tom pouted. "i always have to flirt with them. people are gonna start thinking i'm a floozy. and what if it's a guy?"_ _

__

__"you're hot; you'll be fine." mike raised his voice, calling "burky! tell tom he's hot!"_ _

__

__"tom, you're hot!" came from the bathroom._ _

__

__"gee, thanks," tom snorted, rolling his eyes._ _

__

__"you'll have more to do; have no fear. this is just the set up. burky gets the keys, we wait a few days until security calms down a bit because they're no doubt gonna go fucking crazy when they realize keys are missing. we just gotta get in before they make the poor lovesick cashier a new set."_ _

__

__"what if we make a copy of the key?" tom suggested. "then there would be no need for security to be on high alert."_ _

__

__"'kay, but how would we do that?" mike asked crossly; he felt like he'd been thinking about this for way too long._ _

__

__"polymer dough; this kid who lives across the hall from me is always screwing around with it. he wants to teach chemistry to high schoolers and he's got loads of the stuff in his room," andre said as he shuffled back into the room._ _

__

__"how do you know the guy?"_ _

__

__"i know his roommate."_ _

__

__"can you take us to him?" mike asked, tapping his keyboard in a frenzy._ _

__

__"um, yeah. but only if we're definitely going to make a model of the key." andre was beet-red and he wouldn't meet mike's or tom's eyes._ _

__

__"okay weirdo," tom said. "hey, can you help me with a thesis? i need to write one for marine ecology."_ _

__

__"yeah, show me the assignment," andre said. "but keep your distance, typhoid mary."_ _

__

__—————_ _

__

__"if there was another option," mike said hesitantly, "we wouldn't do it." he hunched his shoulders against the biting wind as they walked to phelps hall._ _

__

__"i know," andre said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "making a copy is better than stealing one, i guess. less drama."_ _

__

__mike hesitated again; in all his years of friendship with andre, he had rarely seen him nervous and vulnerable like this. the kid had always tried to be tough like him and tom, always covered up fear with bravery and cockiness. mike couldn't help but feel like he had taken andre's teenage years away from him. "look, burky, we _could_ just steal the key instead of making a copy; it would make your job easier. actually, you don't even have to be involved at all if you really don't want to."_ _

__

__andre shook his head. "no, the only reason we're going back to kettler is me. i'm not gonna back out." he took his hand out of his pocket and began twirling something around his fingers. it was purple, sparkly, and held a butterfly charm._ _

__

__mike gestured to it in curiosity._ _

__

__andre looked down and blinked, like he hadn't even realized what he'd been doing. "this was just practice. pulled it off a girl in phelps."_ _

__

__"yeah, but what is it?" mike grabbed it out of andre's hand. it was a keychain bedazzled with a rhinestone letter K. "you stole her keys? you are so lacking in moral fiber."_ _

__

__"do you see keys?" andre fired back. "no, i took her keys off the ring and kept the keychain. just trying to get a hang of it for next week. god, you're a hypocrite sometimes," he added, but there was no fire in his voice._ _

__

__mike was still impressed with this feat. "that's good, andre. like, _really_ good. nice job."_ _

__

__they walked in silence for a bit, both fighting shivers and chattering teeth. it was almost december, and in a week they would be entering kettler. almost everything was set in the plan except for how they were going to make the key's copy. that's where mike and andre were headed now: to andre's dorm to meet the guy with the polymer dough._ _

__

__andre used his pin number to get into phelps hall, and then lead mike up the stairs. "this is me," he said, rapping lightly on door 207. then he turned to 208 across the door. "you should probably let me go in first."_ _

__

__mike shrugged._ _

__

__andre raised his hand and paused before knocking twice in quick succession. upon hearing nothing, he twisted the door knob and disappeared inside._ _

__

__it was maybe a minute before he came back out. "i had to wake him up," andre said. he glanced at mike sideways. "please be normal."_ _

__

__before mike could say anything in defense, andre opened the door and pulled him inside._ _

__

__it was the epitome of a freshman boy's dorm room. mike winced at the smell of dirty laundry (it reminded him of his own dorm freshman year, and his apartment until tom had matured enough to realize he had to wash his clothes himself) and the absolutely chaotic amount of disorganization. a shirtless boy was passed out on his stomach on a futon as both beds were covered in dishes._ _

__

__"i thought he was already awa—" mike started, but andre shushed him._ _

__

__he poked the sleeping guy's shoulder. "v, wake up."_ _

__

__mike stared, confused as _hell_ , as the guy sat up and rubbed his eyes. he blinked a couple times at mike and then broke into a grin when he saw andre. "hey, burracuda. weren't you just here?"_ _

__

__"uh, yeah, but i brought a friend with me." andre jerked his head toward mike quickly. the tips of his ears were bright red._ _

__

__mike held out his hand. "i'm mike."_ _

__

__"jakub vrana, but everyone calls me v. nice to meet you. can i offer you guys a brownie? they're fresh, just got 'em in like two days ago." he held out a plate that carried a heap of delicious-looking brownies._ _

__

__mike reached for one, but andre gently moved his hand away. "i need a favor."_ _

__

__"what can i do for you?" v asked, placing the plate out of the way on the floor._ _

__

__mike squinted at v's tone._ _

__

__"i need some of bobby's polydough."_ _

__

__v turned back toward them and furrowed his eyebrows. "why?"_ _

__

__"i can't, um, i can't really tell you," andre stammered. "we just need some of it. not a lot."_ _

__

__"sure, man." v crossed the room to a desk that was clearly not his. he dug through the drawer before pulling out a gallon bag full of tiny white pellets. "take as much as you need."_ _

__

__"thank you," andre said gratefully. he stepped forward and began shoveling handfuls of the stuff into his coat pocket. v stood by his side, holding the bag open. andre was a few inches taller than v, but he bent down to be at the same level._ _

__

__mike busied himself with looking around. it was obvious that v's roommate was no neater than he was; clothes were strewn everywhere and both desks were messy. the one next to the futon must have been v's. it was littered with papers and books about the american government and held a box of thin brown sheets of paper as well as what upon first glance appeared to be a pepper grinder, but mike knew better than that._ _

__

__"that should be enough, i think," andre said quietly as he fumbled with closing the bag. v's hands gently pushed andre's out of the way and he shut the bag himself._ _

__

__andre quickly shuffled to the door. "thanks again, v."_ _

__

__"anytime, burracuda. nice meeting you, mike."_ _

__

__mike nodded. "you too, man."_ _

__

__andre lingered in the doorway for a few seconds longer, and then followed mike out. they ducked into 207 quickly to get a bag for the polymer._ _

__

__"so, the way this works is we boil water, pour it onto these, and they'll clump together. we'll have about two minutes to form it around the key. it'll cool off and make a mold. then we line the inside with, like, vaseline or something and fill it with more polydough. let it cool and pull it out and there's our key," andre explained as he emptied his coat pocket into a plastic bag. he appeared to completely ignore his roommate, who was watching something on his laptop with headphones on._ _

__

__"should we cover the real key in vaseline too? we don't want it to get stuck," mike suggested._ _

__

__andre frowned. "we probably should, but that'll make it harder for me to get it back on the key ring without the cashier knowing."_ _

__

__"well, we need to figure that out. we're getting the key in four days."_ _

__

__"i'll figure something out," andre snapped. his shoulders tensed, and he looked away from mike._ _

__

__"so...how did you meet v?" mike asked a few seconds of unbearably awkward silence later._ _

__

__"we sit by each other in music appreciation."_ _

__

__"ah, the easy gen-ed." mike tried to keep his tone light._ _

__

__"yeah." a small smile crept onto andre's face, and he began to laugh. "you almost took one of his brownies."_ _

__

__"i saw the grinder on his desk afterwards," mike said, and he laughed too. "dude's a stoner?"_ _

__

__"totally. he puts so much in those brownies, latts, you would've been so fucked when it kicked in."_ _

__

__"what's he majoring in?"_ _

__

__"political science."_ _

__

__"fucking christ," mike snorted, still laughing._ _

__

__andre's guffaws died down to giggles and then disappeared completely. "normally he charges for them. you were getting a steal."_ _

__

__"does he ever charge you?" mike raised his eyebrows._ _

__

__"i've only ever had, like, two. they're not really for me, i guess. and no, i don't think he charged me for either of them."_ _

__

__"well, he seems nice. he even has a cute nickname for you." mike stifled another laugh, but tried really hard to act like he wasn't._ _

__

__andre rolled his eyes. "he thinks it's hilarious; he came up with it once while we were studying for a test in music app and now he won't call me anything else."_ _

__

__"so get him back. there's gotta be a dumb name you can work."_ _

__

__"nah, he's just v. that's it," andre said, and there was a sense of finality in his tone._ _

__

__mike checked his phone. "well thanks for getting the ploy...poloy...poly-whatever, burt. think wilso's done having phone sex with schmidty yet?"_ _

__

__"if he's not, he's pretty close," andre snickered. "later, latts. thanks for coming."_ _

__

__mike pointed at him and laughed, and then andre made a face, but he laughed too._ _

__

__"see you in a couple of days, burk. i know you'll figure it out," mike said._ _

__

__—————_ _

__

__"okay, you guys ready?" mike asked._ _

__

__andre fiddled with the hems of his threadbare ovechkin jersey, and tom fussed with the braids coming off his capitals winter hat. he sent a glare at mike, who smiled back smugly and tipped the brim of his "weagle" baseball cap down._ _

__

__"i still don't see why _you_ get the cool hat," tom grumbled. "how am i supposed to flirt when i look like a fucking six year old?"_ _

__

__"hard to hide what you really are" mike responded smoothly, rubbing his hands together. "we know what we're doing, right?"_ _

__

__"yeah, mom," andre said. "let's go; it's cold out here."_ _

__

__mike opened his mouth, but tom cut him off. "we rendezvous at the corner if anything goes wrong. we're ready, so let's get it done."_ _

__

__"god, you two are impatient. fine, let's go in."_ _

__

__they headed inside. andre followed mike and tom as they went to sit on some bleachers to watch the players, who were already on the ice. mike continually patted the bag of polydough in his right pocket and the tiny thermos of hot water in the left one._ _

__

__after a while, they got up. tom and mike chattered on to andre about how often they came to practices and how much he would love the team store. they walked into the shop, and immediately went to work. tom made note of the cashier: a short, pretty brunette with a key ring containing three keys on her belt loop. mike estimated how long it would take him to get to the bathroom from here. andre picked out a shirt he liked._ _

__

__after mindlessly browsing the store, tom sauntered up to the counter. the girl's eyes widened as he leaned down to her height. "hey," he said softly, "my friend here is looking for a shirt. he's a lifelong fan. new in town, though. can you help us find a good one for him?"_ _

__

__the poor girl didn't know what she was in for; already she was visibly dazed as she said, "um, sure."_ _

__

__tom led her over to where andre was. it was almost comical watching them turn on the charm, and mike could barely conceal his laughter. he stood behind them, unnoticed (but that was the point)._ _

__

__andre asked the cashier to "explain" the shirts, which seemed to confuse her. it confused tom and mike too; andre had said he was going to practice his lines, but he appeared to be improvising. at any rate, it worked, because after a moment, she began to ramble on about how under appreciated nicklas backstrom was, and how she wished more people would buy his jersey. "ovi is great," she said, eyeing andre's choice of jersey, "but a winger is nothing without his centerman."_ _

__

__tom frowned and opened his mouth, ready to defend his proud high school career as an all-conference right wing, but andre stepped on his foot and batted his eyelashes he asked, "can you show me who you think is the best?"_ _

__

__as the cashier nodded and walked out from behind the counter, andre fell into step behind her, reached down, and deftly began to maneuver a key off the ring. tom and mike held their breath as he did so, hoping not only that she wouldn't notice, but that andre had picked the right key. there was only enough polydough for one mold._ _

__

__the cashier stopped short in front of—what else—the backstrom jerseys and shirseys. andre gave a quick tug on the key, and it came off with a soft clink. he handed it back to tom, who pulled out his phone and called mike, whose phone began vibrating and blaring britney spears' toxic._ _

__

__"sorry, gotta take this," mike said loudly. he grabbed the key from tom's hand and hustled off to the bathroom._ _

__

__tom and andre continued to distract the cashier, holding up shirts to andre's chest and asking which one would have the better fit. she was clearly flustered, and it made them almost feel bad._ _

__

__minutes later, mike slipped back into the store. he pressed the key against tom's arm, who in turn took it and jabbed andre in the back._ _

__

__andre's hand darted behind him and grabbed it. he rolled it around in his jersey a few times to remove any residue from the lotion mike had used to slide it out of the mold. then, his hand dipped back down toward the cashier's belt, and he reattached it to the key ring. "this one is good," he said, pointing the shirt he'd originally picked out. "i'll take this one."_ _

__

__once they'd purchased the shirt, they left kettler. andre let out a whoop once they were far enough away. "we fuckin' did it, boys!"_ _

__

__tom high fived mike and then andre once the latter stopped flailing his arms in celebration. "went smoother than elvis. drinks?"_ _

__

__"we've got three days until we go in for real; we don't have time to waste," mike reminded them. "we have to make the key—"_ _

__

__"and it'll take longer," andre finished. "the water needs to be hotter if we want to make a key that actually works."_ _

__

__"not to mention we have to figure out what door the key works on, and if we even have the right key."_ _

__

__tom made a face. "fine. _i'll_ drink. think that one guy has any brownies left?" he elbowed andre, who blushed._ _

__

__"i don't know, maybe you should ask him." but he was smiling._ _

__

__mike threw his arms around tom's and andre's shoulders. "maybe we _can_ celebrate; it's little andre's first successful heist!"_ _

__

__andre shrugged out from underneath them. "quit babying me," he grumbled, still with a grin on his face._ _

__

__—————_ _

__

__"are you cold?" mike shouted over the brutal wind. he scooted into closer to andre, who was sandwiched between him and tom as the rode along north pollard._ _

__

__andre shrugged. he stared hard at the ground that flew by beneath their feet. little flakes of snow drifted through the air, buffetted by the wind, but they didn't stick to the ground. there would be no traceable footprints._ _

__

__tom squinted at his phone, where the maps app was displaying their progress as they trundled along in the bed of tom's freshman-year-roommate's truck. "we're almost there," he yelled._ _

__

__as dima turned right onto 5th, andre, mike, and tom pulled up the barrier and laid back to hide themselves just before he turned onto north quincy. they stayed low while he briefly drove down the busy street._ _

__

__dima turned right onto the less busy continuation of 5th, and the three sat up. they opened the barrier again and when the coast was clear, hopped out of the back of the truck._ _

__

__mike reached into his sweatshirt and dug out the ski masks. he kept one for himself and handed the other two to tom, who put his on, and andre, who stuffed his in his pocket. "i've been looking at the building on google earth and i'm about eighty-five percent sure i know which door to go in."_ _

__

__"only eighty-five?" tom looked like he wanted to skeptically raise an eyebrow; however, his ski mask prevented him from doing as such, so he just opened his eyes wide and stared._ _

__

__mike rolled his eyes and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. he unfolded it and held it close to his body to protect it from the wind. tom and andre huddled in close to look at the paper, which was a printed photo of kettler from a birds eye view. in red marker, mike had traced the way they had gone the first time time he and tom had broken in. in blue marker was the path they'd taken when they got the keys. and in green marker was their projected course for tonight._ _

__

__mike took the paper back. they crossed north randolph and strolled over to the parking garage. he and andre pulled their ski masks on. the three of them peered around for cameras and, upon finding none, hopped over the gate. mike led the way, using his paper as a map. it was thin and soft from being unfolded and refolded time and time again._ _

__

__they opened a door and hustled up the flights of stairs._ _

__

__"how—much—farther?" andre wheezed as they neared the end of another flight._ _

__

__"not much. employee parking is on the eighth floor, and we're on the sixth," mike said. he glanced sideways at andre, who was huffing and puffing like he was on the twenty-fifth mile of a marathon. "jesus, burt, you need to hit the gym."_ _

__

__"the whitney has a nice track," called tom from the steps above them. "hurry up, burky. i found the door."_ _

__

__mike and andre rushed up the last four flights and met tom, who was leaning against a door. andre leaned over and held up his hand, signaling for a minute. he coughed a few times. then he dug a key out of his pocket. it was small, with a flattened handle sticking off the end. it was whittled nearly to perfection, and andre was very proud of it._ _

__

__tom grabbed the key and inserted it into the lock rather unceremoniously. mike held his breath as tom turned it back and forth, twisting the handle as he did so._ _

__

__the door opened. tom handed the key back to andre, his eyebrows raised. "i honestly didn't expect that to work."_ _

__

__andre shoved him aside and marched into the darkened hall. he took out his phone and turned on the flashlight. mike and tom followed after him. they tiptoed down the hallway, passing multiple doors. none were labelled. the hallway was dark as pitch aside from the bright light from andre's phone._ _

__

__after about a minute, they came to a door labelled "main floor."_ _

__

__tom, with more care this time, slid the key into the lock. "are we ready?"_ _

__

__andre nodded enthusiastically._ _

__

__"now remember, there's a fuckton of cameras out there," mike warned. "keep your head down when possible."_ _

__

__tom turned the key and smiled deviously when he heard the subtle 'click' of the lock. he turned the door handle. "kettler welcomes you, mr. burakovsky."_ _

__

__the door swung open. andre exhaled as he stepped into the rink. "holy shit."_ _

__

__the ice was still lit, glowing ghostly white. the rest of the huge room, however, was bathed in shadows. exit signs glowed above a few doorways._ _

__

__mike nudged andre forward. his mouth was still hanging open._ _

__

__tom laughed at the look on andre's face and clapped him on the back. he knew what his friend was experiencing; the rush of adrenaline that came from breaking into this place was unlike any other. a thousand times stronger than what they felt when they broke into the movie theater during tom and mike's senior year. a million times stronger than the tug in his stomach that came with successfully pickpocketing someone. yet tom knew that even if all of those little highs combined, they wouldn't even come close to what andre was feeling right now. words simply couldn't describe it, which andre seemed to agree with as he couldn't even find the breath to speak._ _

__

__"we're gonna check out the store," mike said slowly. he and tom wandered off, leaving andre to explore kettler._ _

__

__and so he did. the locker rooms were locked and did not open for his key, which was disappointing, but not surprising. it made sense that a lowly cashier wouldn't have access to the locker rooms. therefore, andre wasn't too sad as he slipped his personal key copy into his pocket (he'd secretly made one for himself. it meant visiting bobby—and v— to get more polydough, but andre didn't mind that)._ _

__

__he walked wall to wall all across the main floor. it kind of sucked, not being able to take pictures; andre wanted to remember this. kettler was eerily quiet, but peaceful. it was as if the practice complex couldn't decide if it wanted to be a haunted house or a happy hideaway. nonetheless, there was something enchanted about this place; something that andre hadn't been able to see when he'd been here just three days ago._ _

__

__after contenting himself with exploring, he made his way to the hallway of shops. tom and mike had left the large doors unlocked and open. this hallway was darker as it was farther away from the ice and its lights. andre ducked his head, avoiding making eye contact with a camera. a little dot glowed red at the camera's base. he hoped that didn't mean the alarms were going off somewhere._ _

__

__voices eminated from the team store. mike and tom were bickering, as usual._ _

__

__"schmidty would like this shirt! carly for days!"_ _

__

__"are you stupid? he likes beags."_ _

__

__"are _you_ stupid? _i'm_ his best friend!"_ _

__

__andre strolled into the team store. it too was lit only by the flashlights on tom's and mike's phones. they stood apart, holding their lights on different shirts as they argued._ _

__

__"you think you know what's best for everyone!" tom said snippily._ _

__

__mike threw his hands up. "we were _literally_ just arguing about what shirt to give schmidty. what's your problem?"_ _

__

__tom made a face. "we've been here for too long."_ _

__

__"well, as soon as burra comes back from his little quest—"_ _

__

__"i'm here," andre piped up. he sidled between tom and mike. "you're right, tom. i think schmidty would like the beagle shirsey better."_ _

__

__tom spread his arms wide in an imitation of evgeny kuznetsov's bird celly. "in your face, mikey!"_ _

__

__mike rolled his eyes. "did you have fun, dre?"_ _

__

__andre snorted. "yeah, i did. thanks for asking, dad."_ _

__

__"take your pick of what you want," mike said, gesturing at the racks of clothes in the store. "i'm gonna hit the player-signed stuff. we're leaving soon."_ _

__

__—————_ _

__

__"listen," andre slurred. "i have a _great_ idea for our next big heist."_ _

__

__tom grabbed the whiskey bottle out of his hands and took a swig. "ease off the rockets, big shooter. we've been home for three days."_ _

__

__"yeah. don't get too ahead of yourself, burks. and leave me some, we're almost back," mike said. he flicked his turn signal, turning onto his street. he glanced scornfully back at his boozing best friends in the backseat; mike hadn't even tasted a drop yet, and already they were on their way to plastered._ _

__

__"boys, it went without a fuckin' hitch," andre whined. he leaned forward, resting his chin on the passenger seat shoulder. "we practically _own_ kettler now."_ _

__

__"quit fluttering your eyelashes. we've been in twice, and almost got caught the first time." mike pulled into his driveway. "dumpster-diver," he whispered to tom._ _

__

__" _hey_."_ _

__

__"out. we're home." mike got out of the car, followed by a wobbly andre and a surly tom._ _

__

__"don't you wanna hear my epic idea? it's _fresh_ , latts. no one has ever tried this before."_ _

__

__"so what...what makes you think we'll be able to pull it off?" tom furrowed his eyebrows. he cradled the jack daniels to his body, out of range of mike's reaching hands._ _

__

__"we have me. pocket-robber king. and mikey, the computer gennis...genius. and i guess you too, willy baby. you look pretty." andre laughed to himself. "the three muske-thiefs."_ _

__

__"sounds stupid, but i'll bite," mike said flatly, as tom squinted and muttered "pocket-robber?"_ _

__

__"listen close, boys. listen to uncle andre. i will tell you what we're gonna do." andre swayed back and forth. mike and tom glanced at each other and mouthed 'pre-gamed.'_ _

__

__"well go on, aunt nancy, tell us what you're on about," tom prodded._ _

__

__"boys. we're gonna break into...." andre patted his thighs, simulating a drumroll. "we're going to break into and rob the ovansion."_ _

__

__mike unlocked his front door and pushed it open. "the what?"_ _

__

__andre frowned. "oh-van-shun. ovechkin mansion? ovansion? god, you guys need to take a basic english class."_ _

__

__"sorry, shakespeare," tom deadpanned. "but also, how the _fuck_ are we supposed to get into the—"_ _

__

__"ovansion!"_ _

__

__"—house of literal god among men alex ovechkin?!"_ _

__

__andre flung his arms out, drawing mike and tom into him. they stumbled under his dead weight. "we _make a plan_ , einstein."_ _

__

__mike scowled. "it's not that simple."_ _

__

__"that's what you said about the kettle," andre reminded. he booped mike's nose. "and look what we _did_ , latts."_ _

__

__"not to be crazy..." tom said quietly. "but i kind of like it."_ _

__

__"lay off the whiskey then," mike retorted. "ovechkin's mansion? boys, that's...a whole new level."_ _

__

__"we've been risking jail time ever since burky hit high school!" tom said, voicing mike's unspoken concern. "the movie theater? the nike factory store? _walmart_?"_ _

__

__"i'm pretty sure shoplifting from walmart wouldn't have landed us in the big house."_ _

__

__"we stole over a thousand dollars worth of shit, though," andre piped up._ _

__

__"well, then it's a good thing we never got caught." mike squirmed out from under andre's arm. tom cursed as he lost his balance trying to keep his drunk friend on his feet._ _

__

__andre grabbed the bottle of jack daniels from tom's hands and offered it to mike. "think about it. we could be _legends_."_ _

__

__"but no can know we did it," tom pointed out._ _

__

__"we _could_ see some seriously cool shit," mike muttered._ _

__

__"think he keeps the rocket richard there?" andre said. his eyes were wide in wonder._ _

__

__"no, they get smaller versions of the trophies," tom answered. "he's got a whole room just for trophies, i bet."_ _

__

__"yeah, but no cu—"_ _

__

__"shhh!"_ _

__

__"mike," andre whispered, drawing out the 'i' sound. "let's go see the rocket richards." he raised his eyebrows and dangled the bottle of jack daniels in front of mike's face._ _

__

__mike glared at the bottle as it swung back and forth. after a few seconds, he grabbed it. "fuck it. let's break into ovi's house."_ _

__

__"ovansion!"_ _

__

__—————_ _

__

__"where does ovi even live?" tom asked. he stared at his laptop screen as he scrolled through the google results._ _

__

__"like his address is gonna be that easy to find," andre snorted. he sat on the counter, crosslegged, a bowl of brownie batter in his lap. "you can't just _google_ ovi's house."_ _

__

__"what happened to the _ovansion_?" mike teased._ _

__

__andre flushed. "i was drunk."_ _

__

__"drunk words, sober thoughts!" tom singsonged. he scrolled through another page of results and ignored the evil eye andre sent his way. "says here that he bought a house in mclean, virginia."_ _

__

__"when's the article from?"_ _

__

__"um...twenty-twelve."_ _

__

__"hmmph," said andre. he dipped a spatula into the batter and then licked it clean._ _

__

__mike glared at him. "don't use that spatula again."_ _

__

__"okay, daddy."_ _

__

__"in twenty-sixteen, he got trapped in his house," tom offered, cutting mike off before he could respond. "it's a russian machine article."_ _

__

__mike peered over tom's shoulder. "it says the house is in arlington."_ _

__

__tom clicked onto another article. "this one's from twenty-fourteen, and it says he's looking for people to rent the house in arlington."_ _

__

__"so...where does he live now?" andre hopped off the counter. he wandered over to the table where mike and tom were sitting._ _

__

__"definitely not there; it gives out the actual address in the article," mike said._ _

__

__"'ovechkin no longer lives there'," tom read. "so he was renting it out four years ago, but got trapped inside two years ago? sounds like he bought the mclean house six years ago."_ _

__

__they were silent for a while, reading over all the articles they could find about where ovechkin might live._ _

__

__"everything seems to point to him living in mclean," mike finally said._ _

__

__"it's about half an hour away from here," tom added._ _

__

__"how big is it?" andre asked. "is there anyway for us to make it look like we're just visiting?"_ _

__

__"doubtful. he probably lives in a gated community." mike frowned. "guys, how are we going to do this? _when_?"_ _

__

__"playoffs?" andre offered._ _

__

__"assuming the caps _make_ it," tom said sulkily._ _

__

__"they will. don't curse them," andre replied. he smacked the back of tom's head._ _

__

__"we can't make any assumptions; it's only january," mike hedged. "but say they do make the playoffs. we go in the first round, when they're playing the two away games."_ _

__

__"what if his wife is there?" tom worried. "we don't want to encounter her."_ _

__

__"we can't plan for everything. nastya might be there, she might not. and who the fuck knows; maybe the caps'll collapse and not even make the playoffs, since you're hellbent on cursing them, willy. or maybe they play a team that's close by geographically and cuts our time slot down," andre said. tom and mike blinked; andre wasn't normally this verbal. or this perceptive._ _

__

__"if we're doing this, we have to be prepared for as much as we can." andre looked at his friends seriously. a little bit of brownie batter lingered at the edge of his mouth and decreased the intensity slightly. "i say we drive to mclean tomorrow."_ _

__

__tom frowned, ready to protest. "but i—"_ _

__

__"let's do it." mike slapped andre on the back. "what the burracuda wants, the burracuda gets."_ _

__

__andre almost choked on air, but recovered respectably. "we'll just...we'll just get a good look of which house is ovi's."_ _

__

__"i can't wait to be cellmates with you guys when we get caught trying to steal one of alex ovechkin's mini hart trophies from the awards dungeon in his basement," tom snorted. but he closed his laptop and said, "i'll drive."_ _

__

__—————  
the end_ _

__

__"this isn't real," tom breathed. "no _fucking_ way we're actually doing this."_ _

__

__"no fucking way someone hasn't called the cops on us yet," mike grumbled._ _

__

__"we just look like a bunch of dudes on a run," andre tried. "athletic guys in athletic clothes."_ _

__

__"we're _walking_ though."_ _

__

__"shut up, tommy. you look like the out of shape one."_ _

__

__"hey! hey," mike mediated. "let's start jogging because—" he checked the note on his phone that was comprised of a pathway from maps, a picture of the house, and a description of the neighborhood "— we're about to get to the park."_ _

__

__the three picked up their pace and began to jog. they ran around the perimeter of langley oaks park. the houses grew bigger and farther apart. the months of training for this had come in handy; they ran a mile and a half before andre stopped and hunched over._ _

__

__mike reached into his backpack and pulled out a bottle of gatorade._ _

__

__andre took it gratefully and sat down. "w-wait, the bottle is dirty."_ _

__

__mike handed a bottle of water to tom and opened one for himself. "no, it's not. that's from v. he wrote something for you."_ _

__

__"on the...on the gatorade?" andre murmured incredulously. panting, he squinted at the writing. his face broke out into a smile as he read it._ _

__

__tom nudged mike happily. mike grinned back at him._ _

__

__"you guys knew about this?" andre asked. he was probably blushing underneath the redness from running. probably._ _

__

__"maybe," tom said. he wiggled his eyebrows mysteriously._ _

__

__mike checked his watch. "we should get going. it's almost eleven."_ _

__

__andre stood up. he chugged the rest of the gatorade and handed the bottle back to mike; they couldn't risk leaving behind any trace of their presence._ _

__

__they started running again. tom on the left, andre in the middle, and mike on the right._ _

__

__"you know, this is really a perfect night," tom said as they jogged. "not too warm or cold. windy. gets a breeze through the flow."_ _

__

__"shut up," mike grunted. "are you gonna talk for the next four miles?"_ _

__

__andre groaned. "four more miles? you told me the whole trip was two miles max!"_ _

__

__"i didn't think you'd want to go through with it if you knew how long we were running! you hate running!"_ _

__

__"two isn't that different from five," tom offered. "we _did_ spend months at the track running to prepare for this."_ _

__

__" _you_ guys did," andre huffed._ _

__

__tom and mike turned to stare at him in shock. andre looked between the two of them with a wounded expression. "i thought it was only two miles! i can do two miles!"_ _

__

__mike managed a laugh. "think of it as, like, two sets of two miles. and then another mile. but don't breathe too loud when we get to the ovansion."_ _

__

__"the cameras might pick us up if you huff and puff like the big bad wolf," tom joked. he stumbled off the path when andre punched his arm._ _

__

__they fell into a pace, and reached the neighborhood just after twelve._ _

__

__tom slowed to a walk, but mike grabbed his arm and dragged him along until he began jogging again._ _

__

__before long, the house came into view. there were streetlights casting a soft orange glow over it._ _

__

__tom fell out of pace again, but mike followed him this time, as did andre. they drifted to a stop in front of one of the front gates._ _

__

__the moment was too big for words, until andre spoke._ _

__

__"what if we touch the gate and it has electricity and we get shocked and die?" he didn't move or look away from the regal mansion._ _

__

__"what if you never said anything ever again?" tom replied, still looking at it too._ _

__

__"i hate you both," mike finished. "let's do it."_ _

__

__they reached into their backpacks and each pulled out a ski mask. these were the same ones that had been used for breaking into kettler, only now there were number spray-painted on the back of each one. mike was 46, tom was 43, and andre was 65. it was tom's idea to do this; they imagined what numbers they'd have if they could play with ovi and the caps, and decided to decorate their ski masks like helmets. no one said anything about how it didn't matter that they were technically ruining perfectly good ski masks. no one wanted to say anything about how this might be the last time they all got to use them._ _

__

__one by one, they hopped the gate. andre went last, once he was assured there was no electric current running along the gate._ _

__

__"so," tom said as they moved up the driveway, andre racing ahead. "are we actually gonna take anything? or just take some mad selfies and get out?"_ _

__

__"what can we take?" mike asked. "we each have a backpack. what's gonna fit in there?"_ _

__

__"vodka!" yelled andre. he sprinted past the house and disappeared into the backyard._ _

__

__"russian vodka?" mike laughed._ _

__

__"one shot and you're wasted, i bet."_ _

__

__"let's be _very_ watchful of andre tonight."_ _

__

__"took the words right out of my mouth," tom answered. he and mike rounded the corner to see andre unloading his backpack on the deck._ _

__

__he pulled out a pair of sunglasses and a tire iron._ _

__

__"you look like an asshole," tom said helpfully._ _

__

__andre flicked the shades down and smiled. "flashlight, please."_ _

__

__mike snickered and turned his phone flashlight on. he held it over the door handle as andre crouched next to it and began to pick the lock._ _

__

__"i can't believe a fucking tire iron is working."_ _

__

__"well, it wouldn't work normally. that's why we brought the blow torch, remember?" andre pulled the lock off. "only alex ovechkin, while off fighting evil in pittsburgh, has locked his back door with a padlock, and a tire iron can break through steering wheel locks." ever so slowly, andre turned the door handle. no alarms went off. he turned it fully and pulled open the door._ _

__

__mike walked in first, followed by tom and then andre last. they tread lightly on the granite tile floor. they looked up at the high ceiling and crystal chandelier._ _

__

__"boys..." tom whispered. "how the _fuck_ did we do this?"_ _

__

__after finding his voice, mike responded. "i have no fucking clue._ _

__

__"beats the fuck out of me," andre added._ _

__

__they spread out and moved from room to room. their backpacks remained empty despite everything around. almost half an hour after breaking in, mike remembered that he was supposed to be watching andre. he speed-walked through the dark house as quietly as possible until he found tom, who reported that he'd passed the master bedroom and found the door open, the bed empty. they were alone in the ovansion._ _

__

__the two of them searched the house and found andre staring down a hallway._ _

__

__they paused behind him. tom nudged andre's shoulder. "what is it, dre? did you find the museum he supposedly ha—"_ _

__

__andre elbowed him. he gestured to the door at the end. a soft light illuminated the walls through the glass pane in the middle of the door. at the far end of the room was a glass case filled with trophies and medals._ _

__

__"no _fucking_ way in _hell_. no _goddamn_ way," tom said. "this isn't... this isn't happening."_ _

__

__mike took a step forward. his hand hovered over the door knob. "it's real, boys. this is real."_ _

__

**Author's Note:**

> andre does actually live in his own dorm; he doesn't spend all his time at mike and tom's. his roommate's name is chuck, and he is very chill.
> 
> dmitry orlov was tom's roommate freshman year. he knows of tom's hobby and sometimes helps him and mike out, hence why he was the getaway driver when they broke into kettler.
> 
> mike is majoring in computer sciences, but he likes architecture too.
> 
> andre cried the first time he shoplifted, but tom and mike soothed him easily because it was just a hallmark card for his grandmother's birthday.


End file.
